By
Sophie Herron

12/11

People I told:That night, the internet. Then, a friend,in confidence. Two weeks later, five or six at a bar, some I barely knew.

Words I want to put back into my mouth: I’m not even that hot.

People I did not tell: The police. The train car. My roommates.

I stared him down, if that makes a difference.He looked south, across the water. You can see Lady Liberty there, in the daytime.

I was so worried he’d start again.

At the bar, finally, someone,Why didn’t you—?

The week after, I stopped masturbating. Writing. Worrying how to walk down the street.Avoiding strangers’ eyes.

Sophie Herron obtained her MFA in poetry from New York University. She has taught English and creative writing to students of all ages in her work as a high school teacher, a teaching artist, an NYU instructor and a Fellow at Goldwater Hospital.